


Sentiment, Part 1

by Stargirl4Ever



Series: Sentiment, A Winter Soldier Reader Insert Story [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stargirl4Ever/pseuds/Stargirl4Ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a freelance spy with a tendency for whistleblowing, you sometimes have to deal with organizations that want to kill you. When you slip up and fear for your life, the (very) unexpected happens involving an unstable guy with a submachine gun and a metal arm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentiment, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Presumably takes place before Captain America: The Winter Soldier. The tags wouldn't let me add "The Winter Soldier/Reader" which the story is actually about, the brainwashed side of Bucky Barnes. Also, the Russian in this chapter is from an online translator, so don't take it too seriously. I hope you like it!

You were hidden in the shadows in one of the corners of the ceiling, ignoring the discomfort of your safety harness. There was no way this job could be messed up by the sound of you adjusting the straps, so you stayed still.

You had a small camera eyepiece and a hidden microphone so you could record the scene below you. You had no idea what you were recording footage for, who the older-looking man below was, or what the hell _Hydra_ was. When your clients hired you to take this job, you did so with no questions asked and the determination to not get involved.

You were a whistleblower for hire; a person that went undercover into operations to expose trade secrets, illegal activities, and important issues. The pay was good, but you often found yourself wondering if it was worth risking your life for.

You had done spy gigs at everything from animation studios to factory farms, and you usually didn’t have any interest in what your clients wanted or the causes they stood for, and now was no exception. You weren't listening to what you were recording, you were were just staying aware of any security cameras and people that might happen to look up at you.

Then someone entered the room as the older-looking man called to the door. You had tuned yourself to be able to intuitively sense danger, and that person that just entered set your internal alarms off.

From up above, you noticed that _Danger-Man_ (as you so aptly named him) had long dingy hair, a muscular build, black combat clothes (not too different from your own), and a shiny metallic arm. The older-looking man was presenting Danger-Man to the group he was talking to.

“...you can see...” You starting listening in on the conversation. “The asset has the ability to take out any and every threat to our cause.”

That did not sound like good news on your part.

“Sir, is the asset one of the direct workings of what happened in 1943?” One of the men asked, gesturing to Danger-Man.

“Yes, now...” The older-looking man continued. You tuned out to think and keep yourself concentrated.

 _1943_? _The asset_? You shook your head, immediately stopping and wondering if you had made any noise. Your heart was pounding and you were ready to make a flight or fight decision. When nobody turned to look up at you, some relief wash over you, but you didn’t let your guard down at all. You had learned that lesson the hard way once, but luckily, you escaped with no more that a stapler-sized bruise on your forehead and a temporarily injured sense of morale.

You found yourself touching the spot where the bruise had been at the mere thought of it, and you stopped abruptly when you realized you were making the same mistake once again. You thanked your lucky stars when nobody seemed to notice.

The meeting seemed be wrapping up and you stayed focused for the rest of the time. Then, one-by-one, all the businessmen filed out after shaking the older-looking man’s hand. Older-looking man left and Danger-Man was the last one in the room.

 _Shit_.

You watched him stand statue-still for a few minutes. Your mind kept convincing itself that he could hear your heartbeat, and you you kept your breathing so minimal that you almost felt light headed. Never before had you seen a person that looked like such a threat to you. If Danger-Man caught you, you feared you would get far worse than a stupid stapler bruise.

Finally, the man left the room with a walk that suggested years of hardcore training. Still, you weren't confident with your safety, so you stayed put for about ten minutes, allowing yourself to adjust the harness so your hips didn’t feel like they were going to fall off anymore.

When you finally felt somewhat ready to undo the harness and drop to the floor, something in your gut told you to wait a bit more, but your mind told yourself that you had been waiting long enough. You should have trusted your instincts.

You began undoing the straps and buckles, and then something that only came from your nightmares happened: one of the steel carabiners slipped from the harness and fell to the floor, sending a loud clatter that echoed off the walls of the room. If you thought your slip-ups earlier caused your body to go haywire, that was nothing compared to what you were feeling right now.

Because the carabiner had dropped, the harness could no longer hold you, and you were clutching onto the rope tightly, listening for steps or sirens, or whatever would happen if you had been caught.

Then things got worse.

Danger-Man walked back into the room, squatting down and picking up the carabiner, examining it in his hands. You saw a Skorpion, a small machine gun, strapped to his back. You cursed in your head. All you had was a pistol with two shots in it and a measly army knife. If Danger-Man had a submachine gun, what else could he have on himself?

Your arms were starting to burn incredibly, and you struggled to avoid notice. By the time he straightened up, you knew it was too late.

His head snapped up at you, and you let go at once, not taking the time to see what his face looked like or what his reaction was to you. You landed several feet away from him and you jumped up, readying yourself for a fight. You saw that he had several knife sheaths and a couple more guns. Probably all loaded, too.

He stood his ground, as if challenging you to try something. It was so much scarier than if he had attacked you straight on.

You made your first move: to run for the door. He must have saw it coming because he stopped you, pulling you from behind at superhuman speed. You struggled in his arms and shoved your elbow into the eye of his stomach. You used the opportunity to turn around and try to use your legs to kick his shins.

Nothing you did, despite all your ferocity, worked against him. He let go of you and threw you towards the wall with abnormal strength. You slammed into it with such a force that it knocked all the air from your lungs. You tried to get up again, but you saw him walking towards you. This guy was _not_ a normal human.

Your gun! You reached into your leg holster and pulled it out, releasing the safety, pulling the slide, and aiming at his chest. He stopped not even two feet away, watching you carefully.

You were surprised to see that he had handsome features. His eyes were covered in black camouflage warpaint, and he had stubble. Despite his frightening appearance, his eyes told you that there was more to him than someone who’s main goal was to eliminate you. After all, you were the perfect example of a threat to whatever this guy’s cause was.

“I’ll shoot!” You said articulately, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You knew that everything about yourself, from your body position, to the slightly unsteady gun made you seem delicate and inexperienced compared to him.

The expression in his eyes turned cold once again, and he rapidly jumped down and grabbed your wrist with his metal hand that had a fingerless glove on it, and your neck with his other hand. You did your best to refrain from making a cry of pain. His strength forced you to drop the gun, and both of your hands went to his hand around your neck. To your surprise, you realized that his grip wasn't tight enough to choke you.

He straightened up, making you do the same. He had a good foot-and-a-half on your height, and you had to look up at him to see his face through his long hair. He stood still, watching you with an intense look that was unidentifiable. What would be his next move? You couldn’t do much, and the gun was no longer an option... You thought to your final defense: your knife.

You slowly dropped one hand, but the man released your neck and grabbed you by the shoulders, slamming you into the wall again, a warning enough to make you rethink the move you had been planning to make.

“Ne pytaytes' eto. Vy ne ponravitsya to, chto proizoydet.” (Don’t try that. You won’t like what will happen.) He said. You knew it was Russian, but you didn’t understand him. What he did next surprised you.

He moved his non-metal hand to your face and brushed your cheek softly. His expression changed to one of confusion, and he looked slightly frightened. You were confused as well. What was up with this guy? He sure wasn't stable, that’s for sure.

His hand briefly went through your hair, and he squeezed the one still on your shoulder tightly before letting go. You hissed in pain. He was still close when he spoke again in English.

“Leave. Now.” He took a step back. “Go.” His voice was quiet, but rough.

You looked at his face for a second more before running to the window that you had entered from. You opened it and sat on windowsill, ready to jump. You glanced at the man once again, who was looking at the ground with such a sadness in his eyes, that he looked like an animal that had just been abandoned. You could still feel where his fingertips had traced your skin.

He looked up at you through his long hair with steely eyes once again, and you took it as a sign to jump, not wanting to test his odd decision to let you go any further. You pushed off the windowsill and into the air, seeing the busy city street below you begin to approach closer and closer by the second. You pulled the string of your backpack parachute and felt the heavy tug at your shoulders as it unfolded and picked up an air current. Your shoulders ached where Danger-Man had held you.

You landed in a dark alley across the street successfully without anyone noticing you and looked up at the open window. The dark figure of the man you had just fought was standing there looking out. Surely he couldn't see you in the dark of the alley, but you still felt as though he were looking directly at you and you quickly put your parachute away and began to walk towards the car you had parked several streets away.

You clicked the video camera and microphone off, realizing that you had left it on during the whole ordeal.

Later, as you were reviewing the footage you had taken, you saw the man’s confused expression once again, and a lot of questions flooded your mind. Who was he, and why was he so unstable? And more importantly, why did he release you, and would you ever see him again?


End file.
